A Sad Life
by Sonic103
Summary: a hedgehog's account on his life of child abuse.
1. Chapter 1

A sad life.

Chapter 1; freedom

_I stared at the tall, blonde rabbit. She smiled at me, telling me to everything was okay. I stared at my worn red shoes. I felt a tear roll from eye onto my cheek, and then drop onto my lap. The rabbit called my name. "Brad, please look at me." the lady said. I looked up, but I didn't look her in the eyes. She patted my hand, which was on my knees. I flinched reflexively, thinking I was going to receive a blow. She called my name again, but this time it sounded distant, almost an echo. I shuddered as she tried to touch my hand again. The lady herself was not bad at all, but the touching me disturbed me. I haven't been touched positively for a long time. She called my name for a third time, and this time I looked into her emerald eyes. She had a sad look in her eyes. Everyone had a sad look in their eyes when they looked at me. They pitied me._

_I hate being pitied._

_When she realized she had my attention, she asked my a question I felt impossible to answer. "All right Brad, what did your mother do to you?" she asked. I almost wanted to run away, but I didn't. I opened my mouth a few times, and then the tears came. They poured down my face. I hopped onto the rabbits lap, and cried into her chest. She held me, brushing my spines with her hand. She whispered in my ears, telling me it was all right and I needed to calm down. I stopped crying, but I still had a runny nose the hiccups._

_After a couple minutes, she handed me some paper and a pencil. "All right sweetie, if you can't tell me what happened, then can you write about it?" She asked. I nodded. I took the paper and the pencil and sat at the table on the other side of the room. The lady sat across me, sometimes trying to get a peek at what I was writing. I would pull the paper away, glaring at her. After a while, she gave up and started making her self a coffee. After I was done writing, she took the paper (with my permission), and she read it. When she was done reading, her face was white, and she had tears in her eyes. She looked at me. "s-sweetie, do you mind if I show this to the police?" She asked. I nodded. I didn't know why she needed it, but I guess she was going to laugh at me with the police officers. Some of that stuff was pretty embarrassing. When I thought about that, I started questioning if this lady was really me friend. She patted me on my head. I flinched at her touch. She looked at me more sadly. Then a police man walked in. he ordered me to follow him. I didn't want to leave the lady, but she gestured me to follow him. I followed the man outside, and he put me in a police car. He drove down the road, and took a left. I looked at the right, which led to my neighborhood. I turned my attention back to the cop, confused._

"_That's right kid, you're never going back to your mom again. You're free." the officer said. I grinned ear to ear, happy by these words. I had always hoped to escape, but I never ever dreamed that I would actually leave. My evil, abusive mother could never hurt me again. _

_I stared at my right arm, where I had received my first from a long list of wounds. Most of the fur was gone, and also there was a slash on my stomach. The officer asked me a few questions while we were driving. I don't remember all of the questions, but most were pretty basic stuff. He asked my name, and how old I was. After I told him who I was, he was silent for a while. I guess there wasn't much to say after that._

_My name's Brad the hedgehog. I'm nine years old. I used to live with my adopted parent Vanilla and my adopted sister Cream._

_I guess you want to know what happened, well, I'll tell you._

_This is my story._


	2. Chapter 2

We didn't used to be like this, my mom, my sister and I. we used to be happy. We used to play with each other and have fun. We used to love.

We lived in a house in the middle of the woods. It wasn't large, but it wasn't really small. It was a perfect size. A perfect house, for a perfect family. We had all sorts of pets; we had dogs and birds, aquariums full of fish, and a nice brown cat. Mommy used to take us on lots of vacations as well.

Mommy always loved to make new foods. She would try so hard to make new foods and surprise Cream and me. She never failed. Even when she messed up with her cooking, we would all laugh and then clean up the kitchen. Mommy's cooking was so good, whenever she would call for dinner, I would drop anything I was doing and run into the kitchen. Mommy always told me I ate too fast, but it's hard to not to when there was food as good as that.

My favorite times were during Christmas. Me and Cream would race around the house, putting any kind of decoration where we could. Mommy would have Mister Vector bring in a Christmas tree that touched the roof. Mommy would let us put ornaments all over the tree. After the three of us were done with it, it didn't look like a tree. It looked like a huge alien form, with different colored eyes. It was a beautiful sight. On Christmas morning, we would run down stairs, and lord behold there was always a huge mound of presents for us. We would open our presents, and then spend the rest of the day playing with our new toys. At Dinner, mommy would make all of our favorite foods, which would surround a huge turkey. After dinner, we would go to bed and sleep. I would fall asleep listening to slay bells. Christmas was always a good time.

I will never forget my first vacation with them. It was a couple weeks after I was adopted, when mommy came into the room. She gave me a large smile and told me to pack my things. I thought she was going to give me away. When she saw my face, she smiled. She patted me on the head. "don't worry, we're going on vacation!" She said. I smiled wide and began to pack my things. A couple hours later, we had arrived at a log cabin right next to a beautiful river. It really was beautiful. Me and Cream played all day at the side of the river. We were so happy. We played and danced all day long. Eventually mommy called us for dinner. Me and Cream ran to her. I felt exhilarated while I ran. I felt complete happiness and hope inside me. I then ran into my mother's arms, and she embraced me. It was the best day of my life. She would pet my head, calling me a very good boy. She always treated me nicely.

Then the dark times began.


	3. Chapter 3

As I grew older, I realized that my mother had a drinking issue. But when we were older, it wasn't such a problem considering the fact that she drank less. But after a heart breaking split between her and Vector the Alligator, she turned to drink to hide her pain. The only times she had "gone under" was in the late evenings, when me and Cream were in bed. Whenever she WAS drunk during the day time, she turned into a scary monster, screaming at us for reasons we couldn't explain. She would most of the time send us to our room for the rest of the day. The next day, after she recovered from her stupor, she would be crying and would apologize for her actions. Me and Cream would forgive her whole heartedly, and the situation would be forgotten until it happened again.

As Me and Cream grew older, of course we would need discipline. When we were kids, Mommy would sit us on a chair in the corner, and she would tell us we would sit there until she said otherwise. I would sit there, completely ashamed. When Mommy said I could leave, I would spring out of the chair and run to her side, hugging her leg, screaming apologizes.

After that punishment lost it's touch, Mommy devised another way to keep us in line. She would force me to stare at the huge mirror in our bathroom, make us think about what I had done. She would also make me scream "I'M A BAD BOY! I'M A BAD BOY!" after several hours of this, the message. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I realized I deserved everything I had got from that punishment. Mommy would let me leave, but I would sit in my room all day, feeling that I didn't deserve to have fun.

When I started school, "Mommy" changed completely. After my first day of kindergarten, when I got home, Mommy charged down the stairs and slapped me in the face. "THE SCHOOL CALLED BRAD, YOU HAD BEEN A VERY BAD BOY!" she screamed. She slapped me some more, and also started punching me. Apparently the teachers caught me doing something I had never done. I didn't know why "Mommy" was doing this. She was deffinenly drunk, but something else was taking a part in this. She then grabbed my arm and walked me into the kitchen. "Brad you shamed the family!" She screamed. "And as your punishment, you can feel some pain for what you've done." she said. She then turned on the ovens burners. My eyes widened, now knowing her intentions. I tried to pull away, but my mother was too strong. She then forced my right arm over the stove. I felt the heat blow on my fur covered arm. Even two feet above the stove, the heat felt uncomfortable. She then forced my arm onto the stove. I screamed bloody murder when I felt the heat burn off my fur and burn my pink arm. I screamed for my mother to stop it, to leave me alone. She pulled me away from the stove. Even though I had been pulled away from the stove, my arm felt like fire. I looked down at it, trying to look at it. It was a dark red, the flesh looked angry and blistered. My mother grabbed my chin and forced my head upwards to look into her angry eyes.

"LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU!" she screamed. Her breath smelled of booze, and face was very red, telling me that she was very drunk. She then forced my arm right on the stove again. It didn't hurt as bad as the first time, but it felt like hell.

After ten minutes, my mother forced my arm off the stove, and forced me into the kitchen. She stared at my arm, and then she realized that the magnitude of what she had done to my arm. She realized she couldn't go to the hospital, and she had to think of a way to explain this to my teacher. "t-tell them you accidentally got too close to the stove." she said. She tried to treat it, putting some burn medicine on it. Tears streamed down my face from the pain I felt. When my mother saw my face, she slapped me.

"get over it! You realize how easy you got off? When I was a kid, if I misbehaved, I had to go through hell!" she screamed. She then started beating me. She punched me in the stomach, slap me in my face, kick my legs from under me, and other things. After she was done, she stared at her handy work. I laid on the ground, unable to get up. She grabbed my burnt arm and forced me to stand. She ordered me to do my chores. After my chores, dinner was ready. The beatings and being burnt gave me a huge appetite. When I sat at the table, mother shoved me off the chair.

"Oh, you thought that you would get food after being so bad?! Well that's not going to happen mister!" she said. She forced me under the table, making me listen to her and Cream eat. After dinner, she made me wash the dishes, and then made me sleep under the table for the night. My stomach growled and I was shivering from cold. Tears streamed down my cheek, unable to sleep, I tried rocking myself, but I was careful not to touch a leg of the table, because I knew that any sound, any at all, "the Mother" would wake up and come down to punish me. I soon cried myself to sleep, knowing that tomorrow was a new day. How wrong I was.


	4. Chapter 4

Things got worse every single day.

Everyday, I would wake up before "the Mother" does to do my chores. By the time was I was done, mother would be up and have my sister eat breakfast. If I had done all of my chores on time, I'd be lucky to get my sister's leftovers. If my mother was sober, I'd be only slapped around for about ten minutes. Then she would scream for me to get out. I would run to school, while my mother would drive Cream to school. Sometimes I would catch mother kissing Cream on the head and telling her to have a good day. When I got to school, I would drop my stuff in my homeroom, and run out to the play yard to "socialize" with others. After getting bullied for half an hour, I would run into school. After six hours, I would run home and begin my chores. Mother would be sitting on the couch, drinking booze and watching her soap operas. After I finished the chores, I would sit in the basement. Mother had gotten bored of listening to me cry under the table, so she moved me into the basement, so I wouldn't attract any attention whenever we had a rare visitor. I would sleep on an old army cot, next to the water heater. Anyways, after I did my chores, I would sit in the basement, sitting on hands with my head bent down. This was the P.O.W (prisoner of war) position. After "the Mother" finished her dinner, she'd make me come and do the dishes. She said she would give me food if I finished the dishes in her specific time limit. 80% of the time, I didn't finish on time and I would go to bed hungry. The next day would restart the cycle.

At school, whenever we were supposed to play during with each other, I never did that. For two good reasons. One, no child would dare come near me. While the boys could show off fancy jackets and the newest sneakers, I wore faded red sneakers that were ten years old and two sizes too large. While girls showed off their makeup and new hairstyles, I had burns, cuts, and bruises. I had bags under the bags of my eyes from very little sleep. I was an outcast since day one.

The second reason I didn't hang out with other kids was because I considered that a perfect time to get food, since most of the time mother would starve me for days at a time. Most kids, instead of dropping off their food in the safety of their homeroom classes, would just put their lunchboxes near a gate close to the school. Since this gate was not particularly close to the playground, it was easy to steal. It was as if the kids were inviting me to steal their food. Now just because these kids didn't see me didn't mean I can't have my guard up. I would have my back facing away from the rest of the yard area, so no one would see what I was doing. I wouldn't take much, just one thing from a box, another thing from another. Nothing too large, probably just a snickers bar or a pickle. During lunch, I would eat it all whole before a kid could realize what I took.

Unfortunately, my great misadventures wouldn't last long. I was soon caught. I begged the principal not to call my mother. She had given me a sad look. She knew what my mother was and what she did, but apparently she was required to call. When I had ran home, I was immediately ambushed by some kids whom I had stolen from. When I came home, I had a bloody lip and a black eye. But it was worse when I got home. I had opened the door, and was literally grabbed and pulled into the room.

"YOU LITTLE SHIT!" she screamed. "YOU STOLE FOOD FROM KIDS AT SCHOOL!? WELL GOOD JOB BOY, YOU'VE ASHAMED THE FAMILY…..AGAIN!" the screaming didn't bother me, since I was screamed at everyday. But the next part was the worst. The beatings. She picked me up and threw me against the wall, and punched me in the face. I felt my nose break, only adding to my ruined face. She then punched me in my good eye, giving me a second black eye. I squinted at my mother, who began to punch me in the stomach and slapped me silly. She forced me to stare at her. She then did something I didn't suspect. After ten weeks of beatings, she did something very curious.

"STAND UP FOR YOURSELF!" she screamed. I didn't move a muscle, staring at the ground. She smirked. "yes, you won't do anything, because you have no balls. In fact," she said. She then slammed her foot in my crotch area. My eyes almost popped out of my skull, and then I fell over to the ground, twitching, fondling my soft area. My mother smirked. She picked me up, and walked up the stairs. I knew her intentions, but I had no energy to resist. At the top of the stairs, she held my limp body up to her chest. She then pulled her arms from under me, and I slammed down on the top step. I then fell down every stair, feeling every blow on my chest, legs, and arms. I then landed on the final step in a heap. I heard the insane laugh of my mother.

"finish your chores you piece of filth." she said. She walked downstairs to watch her TV. She made sure to kick me on the way out to the TV room. I got myself up, and feebly walked into the kitchen to begin my chores. My weakness and injuries enabled me from doing my chores right. Food was seen on the dishes I put away, the bathroom was half scrubbed, and there was dog poop all over the living room floor. When my mom saw my results, she nearly had a heart attack.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS, YOU CAN'T DO SHIT YOU PIECE OF CRAP! DO ALL OF THE CHORES AGAIN, AND DO THEM RIGHT!" she screamed. I spent the rest of the night doing the chores right. After mopping the kitchen for the 8th time, my mother screamed at me to go to school. I spent most of my homeroom sleeping, which earned a call home. Which lead to another gruesome beating and stair dropping. I had thought that was the worst day of my life.

What I didn't know was that the hell was about to begin.


	5. Chapter 5

A Sad Life

**Hello everyone, It's time for us to torture another poor soul.**

Chapter 5: A line crossed

"WAKE THE FUCK UP!" I heard my mother scream from upstairs. I opened my eyes in alarm, I tried to scramble out of my bed, but a sharp pain in my side kept me from moving too quickly. I look down and see heavily stained bandages on my side. I gasped at the sight of it, not remembering ever getting it. Had I gotten it last night? Had I slept walked, and my mom had given me the stair punishment when I was the least prepared? Hot tears stung my eyes from the intense pain that was swelling in my side. I bit my lip from crying out. Soon blood started leaking from my bottom lip. I used some water coming from the heater to clean my lip. While I was washing the blood, the last night's events shot into my mind.

Last night, I was wiping down the table in the kitchen, when my mother charged into the room, and seized me by my throat. "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!" my mother said, holding up a report card. It had all D's and F's on each subject. "YOU ARE GETTING HORRIBLE GRADES IN YOUR CLASS? OH WELL GOOD JOB BRADLEY, YOU SHAMED THE FAMILY AGAIN!" she screamed. She then slammed me onto the counter top. "you want to get bad grades, misbehave, and steal from other kids at school? Well I guess it's time I taught you a lesson." she said. She pulled the carving knife, (the one we used for Christmas and Thanksgiving) and positioned it to where it was pointed at my rib cage. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not this brave little badass who sees a knife and grabs it and throws it away from me, I was 10, and a little baby who looked at a knife and screamed and tried to get away. My mother slapped me in the face. "SHUT UP!" she screamed. I continued to squirm and try to get away. I knew tonight, she was crazier than usual. SHE MEANT THINGS. And for a 10 year old child, knowing deep shit was about to go down was a bad sign. In a fit of rage and agitation, my mother slammed the knife into my side. I screamed loudly as my mother pulled the knife out of my deep wound. Realization of what she had done reflected on her face. She immendiently ran out of the room. I fell off the counter. I didn't really fall off, the blood had slid me off. I saw my horrified sister stare at me from the door way. I try to get her to help me by groaning her name, but all she did was make a disgusted face.

"mooooooooom, come and fix this kid before the flies come!" she exclaimed. Tears welled up in my eyes as she ran out of the room. I realized my own sister wouldn't help me. I had no one.

My mother walked in. she began to heal my wound, pouring fresh water on it, and feeding my food. At first, I thought and hoped that the stab had been a slap into the face for my mother, waking her up from the funk or whatever she had been going through. I had tried to look into her eyes several times, but she looked away every time. My hopes were soon diminished when she told me to wake up early tomorrow to get a head start on the chores. Of course, the fresh loss of my "mommy", and the mentally draining event of being stabbed left me in tears. Fatigue soon took me over and I had fallen asleep.

Now I laid there, trying to gasp for breath without shouting. My mother soon stomped down the stairs, ready to give me a beating. She saw my condition and decided to take me to the hospital. When we arrived, my mother described a whole dramatic accident with me and some scissors. I was hoping the doctors wouldn't buy that crap, but they didn't blink an eye. I now had given up on ANYONE helping me with my mother. After getting medical attention, my mother dropped me off at school. The rest of the day kids stared and pointed at me. After that day of school, I vowed to fight back against my mother, since no one else would!


	6. Chapter 6

A Sad Life

Chapter 6: consequences.

I stared out the window of the police car. I saw the world that I had never known, go by. The police car stopped in front of the hospital my mother had taken me for the knife wound. The police officer got me to come out with an offer of a cookie. He lead me past some doctors and nurses, and pointed to a small room to walk into. I walked inside, and some nurses were waiting for me. The nurses began studying me. They started at my legs, which were not nearly as bad as my upper body. Of course, they were mostly concerned about my genital area, where my mother had a bad habit of kicking. When the nurses reached my knife wound, they asked a few questions. After I answered them, the nurses looked like they would cry. Then they reached my arms. The nurses looked at my right arm, and one looked like she would be sick. I looked at my right arm. For the first time, I saw for the first time how bad it was. My arm had many cuts that were yellow and infected. My arm was bloated massively. I poked at my arm, and yellow pus leaked out of one of the cuts. My heart sank. The nurses immediately called the doctors. The doctors rushed me into a poorly lit room. They started explaining things to me. They told me that "my arm had more puss then blood in it," and "it might not be savable". my head was spinning faster than the planet. The more of how bad my arm was, the more I felt my arm. I soon had to lie down on a soft bed. I heard the doctors arguing. Some had panicked voices, others were more calm. But I didn't pay attention to any of them, all I paid attention to how pretty the light in the ceiling was. I soon blacked out.

When I woke up, I saw some doctors peering over me. I tried to feel my arm without touching it, but I couldn't. I looked at my arm. I cried out in surprise. Where my arm had been, there was now a piece of long metal that connected to a metal claw that resembled a crab's. I was missing my right arm.

"Brad….Brad calm down!" the head doctor commanded. I stopped, tears running down my cheeks. "we explained all of this to you before your surgery." the doctor said calmly. I was beginning to calm down…as much as you can with a missing limb. "I want you to rest for a couple days." he says. He then walks out of the room with several of the doctors. Some nurses stay behind to watch me. Over the next few days, I begin to recuperate. Although I will never totally get over losing my arm.

**How's it going Sonicz? (I call my "fans" Sonicz) it's Sonic103 back with a rather short chapter. Sorry about it, I just wanted to show you guys what would happen after he is rescued. Be prepared for another chapter soon, and good bye. SEEYA!**


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